The Soul Survivors Series Boxed Set

by Vella Munn

  "My mother—"

  "There's no helpin' anyone 'cept yurself, girl. Everyone's leavin'."

  Everyone who could. Driven by the desperate need to find her mother, Calida tried to step around Gaitor, but he stopped her. She felt the weight of his hand around her wrist and willed herself not to fight him. The air smelled of sulfur and sweat, of too many people in too little space for too long. It had smelled like this on that awful day when she and her mother stood on an auction block while strange white men pressed around them. She'd been a child then but not so young that she didn't understand what it meant to be helpless.

  She'd never be like that again!

  "I have to find her!" she insisted. "I know she's here. He brought her here."

  "It don' matter." Gaitor pulled her with him until they stood near the wall, out of the way of the confusion. Flickering flames painted his face in bloody colors until she barely recognized him. "Nuthin does 'cept stayin' alive."

  "What are you doing here?"

  "He is with me."

  Yet another musket shot cut through the screams and curses, but the sound wasn't loud enough to prevent her from recognizing who had just spoken. As with Gaitor, firelight bucked and danced over Panther's features. A child might shrink in fear from the ever-changing images. She wanted to draw away from Panther, not because she was afraid of him, but because—because why?

  "Is this your doing?" she demanded as she indicated the confusion swirling around them. The soldiers were gathering into a number of tightly bunched groups. It didn't look to her as if they had any interest in stopping the mass exodus, just staying alive. "Is this why you left us? So you could—Panther, have you seen my mother?"

  "That is what brought you here?"

  "Yes!" She had to yell to be heard. "Where is she? Please, where is she?"

  "Calida, there is no time. If you are seen—"

  She couldn't remember when Gaitor had released her and Panther had taken hold of her. Energy pulsed through him. He felt alive with a sense of urgency; his emotion imprinted itself on her. Feeling all but consumed by it, she quickly told him what she'd learned from the Creek Indian. "Winter Rain led me here. She didn't want to, I know she didn't. But she did."

  "Winter Rain?" Gaitor insisted. "She should not—where is she?"

  She pointed toward the gaping hole that was the fort's entrance. "I don't think she came inside. I told her to stay where it was safe." Had she?

  Something passed between Gaitor and Panther, but with fear driving her, she couldn't concentrate on making sense of it. Gaitor whispered something in Seminole; Panther responded, and then Gaitor was gone.

  "What—"

  "Calida, listen to me," Panther interrupted. "It was not my wish to come here. I wanted nothing to do with the white men, but I could not defy Micanopy. I did as a tastanagee must. And I spoke to Osceola, again and again until his thoughts were changed. The army men did not know I was here because I stayed far beyond the fort walls."

  Even so, Panther had risked his life. Maybe later she would care what he and Osceola had said to each other, but right now she couldn't think of anything except Panther's presence—not even her mother. "What are you doing in here? You shouldn't be—"

  "Not all knew to leave."

  And he'd taken it upon himself to bring that message to everyone. The risk had been even greater for Gaitor because the Negro would stand out, while Panther might be able to lose himself in groups of Seminoles. But that, like her mother, didn't matter.

  Panther was an eagle, a great bird of prey. Fierce courage and pride glittered in his flame-colored eyes. His body gave out a powerful message of determination. He would never surrender, never allow himself to be placed behind bars. She wanted to climb onto the fort's highest place and demand the soldiers leave him alone. Panther had been born free. He should be allowed to die free, when his time for death came naturally.

  Panther.

  Alive.

  "Calida?" He pressed closer. She hated not being able to see him anymore and yet she loved the feel of his hot and all but naked body against her. "I can do no more here. It is time to leave. Time for both of us to leave."

  She could do that for him. She'd had enough of sweat-smell and yelling and white men's weapons. Incapable of thinking beyond that, she started to stumble after him. It seemed as if she'd been inside the fort forever, and yet she knew it had only been a few minutes. So much had happened, so many emotions.

  The fort reminded her of a seething anthill. Some of the Seminoles were already deep in the wilderness while others ran back and forth as if they had no idea what to do. She wanted to yell that freedom lay beyond the yawning door, but the Indians had willingly come here. Only they could decide whether to stay or leave.

  It was simpler for her and Panther.

  At least for her.

  Her. No, not just her.

  "I can't!" she wailed. "Not without my mother."

  "Calida, no!"

  "You don't understand. You'll never understand." A child nearby began crying. Its sobs tore through her. "She's all I have. I can't—"

  Panther's grip tightened. Thinking to tell him he was hurting her, she swiveled toward him. He wasn't looking at her. Instead, his attention was fixed on the opposite side of the fort.

  She couldn't see—couldn't fight her way through the milling Seminoles and soldiers. It was insanity: Indians running first one direction and then the other, soldiers pointing muskets but not firing. Firing into the air. Taking forever to reload. Sweat ran off her. Her body smelled of fear.

  If it hadn't been for Panther's strength—

  Not Panther. Reddin Croon.

  She tried to tell herself it couldn't be him. There were so many people. Men, women, children, terrified babies, all in motion. The man standing just outside the tent could be anyone. She didn't understand what the buttons and ribbons on his uniform meant and didn't care, didn't want to be looking at him.

  To have found the man who had her mother.

  Panther lashed her to him, his arms acting as tethers. She fought not him, but the horrible sense of confinement. There might have been a moon; she couldn't remember whether she'd seen it earlier. But something, probably the flaming brands caught to the fort walls, pushed back the night, and after a few more seconds she no longer had any doubt.

  She'd found Reddin Croon.

  And he wasn't alone.

  Croon was dragging her mother behind him. Pilar's fingers were clamped around the rope that circled her neck, but she wasn't fighting him. Rather, she seemed to care about nothing except keeping pace with her master so she wouldn't be strangled.

  An animal. He was treating her as if she was an animal.

  "No! No!"

  "Calida, don't!" Panther warned. She tried to wrench free, but his strength far outstripped hers. Hatred soured in her belly and mouth. Still fighting, she watched as Croon took in the scene around him. Most of the other soldiers wore next to nothing, which made her think they'd already been asleep when the Seminoles started to leave.

  Croon, however, was dressed in full uniform. She wondered if he'd deliberately stayed inside his tent until he could present himself as an officer.

  He hauled her mother behind him as if she were nothing more than a cur.

  "No!"

  "Calida! You can't—"

  Hating Panther's warning almost as much as she hated Croon, she kicked and twisted in the tastanagee's grip. He only held her more firmly and then—

  And then Croon saw them.

  She saw his lips moving, felt his fury and triumph slam into her. The baby was still crying. Its mother tried to calm it. She didn't care. There were only Croon's hard little eyes and Panther holding her against him. Giving her his strength, keeping her from her mother's side.

  Croon started to smile. She knew he was doing it deliberately, but it didn't matter. Nothing did except watching his hand tighten on the rope around Pilars neck, seeing him jerk on it. Watching her mother fall.


  "No! No!"

  Her mother forced herself back to her feet. She marveled at Pilar's strength. Relief surged through her at the sight of it.

  Still smiling, Croon lifted his musket. The long, dark barrel wavered and then steadied. It was aimed, not at her, but at Panther.

  Panther.

  Screaming, she threw herself in front of the warrior, but he must have known what she was going to do because he shoved her aside and started toward the slave owner. She quickly regained her balance and charged after Panther. Not Panther dead. No! Not Panther dead!

  The musket became larger and larger in her mind until she couldn't see anything else. Flame-light glinted off the awful barrel. It didn't move; nothing did except for Croon's fingers, and his fingers were capable of bringing the weapon to life. Of spewing death at Panther.

  Panther, whose body had absorbed night and fire.

  "No!" Even before the scream was out of her mouth, she saw her mother hurtle herself at Croon. Pilar hit Croon at the instant the musket bellowed. Not breathing, Calida waited for Panther to fall, but he remained upright.

  Strong.

  She reached for Panther but had no idea what she was going to do when and if she touched him. She wanted to clutch him to her and assure herself that he hadn't been shot, but her eyes had locked onto her mother, and she couldn't pull free.

  Croon had staggered a little when Pilar hit him, but he quickly recovered. Spinning, he faced Pilar. Calida screamed again, the inhuman shriek a warning to her mother to run.

  The warning came too late.

  As she watched helplessly, Croon swung the musket around and slammed it into the side of her mother's head. Pilar fell as if she was nothing more than ripe fruit hitting the ground. Despite the night, Calida saw blood spill over kinky graying hair.

  "No!" She wrenched free of Panther, or maybe he released her. She didn't know which, and it didn't matter. There was only one thought: killing Reddin Croon for what he'd done.

  Backing rapidly, Croon managed to keep equal distance between them. No matter which way she stepped, someone blocked her path. Although she desperately wanted to shove at the confining bodies, she held back because some of the women carried babies. Someone was beside her, someone big and strong, roaring like a jungle cat.

  Suddenly Panther launched himself. At the same instant, Croon grabbed a girl and shoved her into Panther's arms. The girl, off balance, clung to Panther, slowed him. Croon ran. The bodies and darkness swallowed him. Freeing himself, Panther took off after him, but Calida couldn't concentrate on that.

  Her mother lay crumpled and motionless on the ground. Dropping to her knees beside her, Calida gently lifted her mother's head and cradled it in her lap. Someone brushed against Pilar, jostling her. Calida slipped closer to her mother and used her own body as a shield.

  "Mama. Mama, I'm here. Mama, please, can you hear me?"

  Pilar moaned and muttered something that made no sense. Leaning down, Calida peered into the precious face. Pilar's eyes were half open but not focusing. With her free hand, Calida tried to brush the hair off her mother's forehead. Blood soaked her palm and fingers. "Mama. Oh Mama."

  She no longer heard rifles being fired. Whether the soldiers had been ordered not to or hadn't reloaded didn't matter. Her mother's body was limp, quiet. Feeling gently, Calida discovered that Pilar was bleeding at the side of her head. More torches were being lit. The fort's interior now looked as if it had been touched by a blood-red sunrise. The stench of white bodies, of sulfur again assaulted her.

  She would not let her mother die in this place.

  Straining as she'd never done before, Calida managed to wrap her arms around her mother and then staggered to her feet. It would be easier if she placed her over her shoulder, but this way she could be surer no one ran into them. At first she couldn't see the fort opening. When she finally spotted it, it seemed so far away Still, she began walking, staggering really.

  She'd covered less than half the distance when she could no longer ignore the screaming pain in her upper arms. Telling herself she would only rest for a few seconds, she sank to her knees. As before, she cradled her mother's head against her. This time she didn't look at her. If Pilar was dead, she didn't want to know, not yet.

  A careful survey told her there were now many more soldiers than Seminoles inside the fort. A large number of the soldiers were bunched around the solid enclosure that she guessed held recaptured slaves. Her heart ached for those poor souls. If she didn't leave, she would be forced to join them, or worse.

  Although the thought of taking up her burden again brought tears to her eyes, she crouched over her mother, grasped her shoulders, and struggled to bring her to a sitting position. Sweat popped out on her temple and stung her eyes, but she couldn't release her mother long enough to wipe it away.

  Strength. Somehow.

  Someone touched her arm. Fear exploded inside her. Looking up, she made out Panther's red-tinged form. As quickly as it had come, her fear died, replaced by an emotion she didn't understand. "Let me," he said softly. "You can't carry her."

  Let me. Crying from gratitude, she slid aside so he could cradle her mother in his warrior's arms. What had nearly undone her seemed so easy for him. She needed to ask him if he'd found Croon and killed him, but that would have to wait until her mother was safe. When Panther began trotting toward the fort opening, she kept pace. Pilar's head fell back limply.

  Several soldiers stood just outside the fort, but they weren't trying to stop anyone. Instead, they simply stared as she and Panther slipped past them. Still, she half expected to feel a ball in her back. When it didn't come, she looked up at Panther.

  "They do not know what to do," he said. "Today the fort was full of peace talk. Now everything has changed."

  The why and how of that was important—maybe as important as learning whether Panther had killed Reddin Croon—but neither of those things mattered as much as what they were doing.

  Darkness swallowed them. Without flaming torches to hold back the night, she quickly became blind. When her eyes adjusted to the dark, she was able to make out trees and bushes, shadows and shapes. She became aware of jungle smells, rotting vegetation, fragrant flowers, moss and earth. Those scents were wonderful.

  She wanted Panther to put her mother down so she could tend to her but trusted him to know how far they had to go in order to be safe. Now that it was just them and the night, she heard her own breathing, and Panther's. She strained for any sound coming from her mother but couldn't hear anything. The air was damp, which kept her sweat from evaporating. It must be the same for Panther, worse because he was carrying a heavy burden. If her mother was dead...

  * * *

  Dawn touched the tops of trees by the time Panther set Pilar down. The older woman had stirred from time to time, and he had felt her slow, uneven breathing so knew she was still alive. But if Croon had only hit her a glancing blow, she should have regained consciousness by now.

  Calida, who'd said nothing during the long journey, immediately dropped beside her mother. Much as he wanted to know how Pilar was, Panther understood that Calida's need was greater. He watched as she ran her fingers gently over her mother's cheeks and forehead.

  The rest of Calida's body was so still, as if she couldn't put her mind to it. Her voice came out a singsong whisper, a woman softly begging her mother not to die. He thought of when he'd done the same thing with his father and knew what she was feeling.

  "Calida? She needs water and something to eat. I will—"

  "N-no."

  It took him several seconds to realize that Pilar had spoken. Calida sobbed and bent closer. Over and over again she whispered her mother's name, told her she loved her. Pilar's eyes were half-opened, but he couldn't tell whether she could see anything. His father hadn't once opened his eyes, hadn't known that his son had been there to ease his dying.

  "What do you want?" he asked. "Whatever you need, I will get it for you."

  "No. It doesn't—" P
ilar lifted her arm and reached out weakly. Immediately Calida grasped her hand and held it to her breast.

  "You need water, Mama. He'll get—Panther, please."

  Much as he wanted to obey Calida's request, he was afraid to leave the two women alone. Army men might have followed the escaping Seminoles, but that wasn't what kept him here. He didn't want Calida to be alone if Pilar died, didn't want her to cry alone as he'd done.

  "Panther?" Pilar whispered. "You's Panther, ain't you?"

  "Yes."

  She sighed. Despite the shadows still clinging to the ground, he watched her struggle to fully open her eyes. "Takes care of her, please. She's never had no one 'cept me, and now—"

  "Mama!"

  "Don't, Calida. Please don't."

  Calida cried softly. The sound put him in mind of a newborn wildcat's mewing. He wanted to hold her, to tell her it was going to be all right, but he couldn't and they both knew that. When he rested his hand on her shoulder, she shivered. The day was already hot; she couldn't be cold.

  "Did you find him?" Calida asked. "Croon. Is he dead?"

  "No."

  "No?" She didn't seem to know what to do with the word. "Where—"

  "I do not know where he is, Calida." He hated having to tell her that, hated that his knife hadn't found Reddin Croon's throat. "The night swallowed him. I am sorry."

  She briefly covered his hand with hers when he said that, then she went back to caressing her mother's face while he fought the sense of helpless rage tumbling through him. He'd wanted to kill Croon, not for himself, not for Pilar even, but for Calida. If Croon was dead, she might be able to bathe in freedom. To forget she'd once been a slave.

  Calida wanted to know what it had been like for her mother during the time she was at Fort Mellon. He started to warn her not to tax her mother's strength, but maybe it didn't matter. Pilar was having trouble breathing, and she'd stopped trying to keep her eyes open. Her body lay as limp as a lily torn from a pond and discarded. Still, she talked.

  Reddin Croon had brought her to the fort when the Seminoles first began to gather in it. He'd paraded her about every day and made sure everyone knew she was Calida's mother. He was most careful to tell the scouts and runners.